All Things Bright And Beautiful
by flawsinscience
Summary: Addison copes with a family situation, OC's included. Probably a One Shot


_Not entirely sure what to make of this, it's one of those, inspiration-strikes-at-a-bloody-annoying-moment one shots with the potential for more. Hmm. Reviews are loved like the glow of a Christmas tree at home, or something equally as festive. X _

All Things Bright And Beautiful

She stands towering above the tiny box, cast in an eerie desperate light. The rain patters round her shoulders as she holds up a woman, once her sister now a grieving mother, a life tearing apart. Her own tears threaten over ice-glazed eyes, her response as always to maintain "I'm fine" at every nod of her head, if only they knew her heart was shaking inside, reverberating against the sheath of death, coating her soul in a caustic paint, red by colour, blood by nature.

She grabs tighter on her sisters arm, the mix of strength and grief giving them will to put one foot in front of the other, step by step as they follow the coffin, the ball bearers giving petty looks in their direction, the gentle clink click of metal chains following him. She desires, wishes, hopes, he'll rot. He caused this, he took her nieces life so horrifically, and yet he is the one standing in a hand-me-down suit at the far end of the procession, flanked by his keepers, he is owned now, not that he wasn't possessed before, the keys changed hands, his hands hit her head, she died. If she'd come quicker, run faster down the corridor, yelled some more, what, if, maybe?

It torments her like an unanswerable question, why did the fairy fly? The fear consumes her mind as she feels a dagger drag through the one thing she's always kept at heart, her faith, as a doctor, in being a doctor. Evil can be overcome by performing surgery, carefully treating wounds that heal. But what happens to wounds that never heal, do they turn septic and rot away, or do the leave a void, nothing, empty, an abscess full of nothing useful or good?

She takes her seat at the graveside, a tiny little fairy sat on the pile of granite, toying with a butterfly as she breaks further, she'd always been a fairy, her mom's butterfly, her fairy and in a cruel twist of fate she is both now, an odd angelic mix. She thumbs the paper hymn sheet in disgust, the photo of a ten year old girl holding a caterpillar in her hand smiles at her as she feels the corners of her mouth crinkle upwards, she remembers the moment, "look Aunt Addie, it's a tata pillar," she'd knelt down in the grass, examining the tiny creature, "No fairy, it's a cat-a-pillar, and you know what they become?" she watches the loose auburn curls shake in front of the girls face, "A butterfly, as special and as precious as you," she'd scooped her up, watching her niece push the beastie onto a leaf with an innocence only savoured for children.

She feels her heel sink on the sodden carpet as they stand to sing the first song, her personal favourite, a memory of giggling with her sister as children in the church at summer festival, Molly had done the same not this summer past, in a quick summer vacation they'd all gone to the church, the three of them singing the song in perfect harmony as the sun cast into the tiny old building.

"_All things bright and beautiful,  
all creatures great and small,  
all things wise and wonderful,  
the Lord God made them all._

_Each little flower that opens,  
each little bird that sings,  
he made their glowing colours,  
he made their tiny wings:" _

Slowly dabbing her tears away as they cascade freely down her face, the "I'm fine" façade fading rapidly, drinking in the lie of hatred, and disgust as she catches the eyes of her killer, his stony gaze locked, a menace seeping life out of her sister.

She bows her head as the minister, their parish minister, dotes the tiny lost soul in prayer. She remembers the christening like it was yesterday, a time so soon in the past. She'd acted as Aunt, god-mother and sister as she'd held the tiny angelic doll in her hands, dropped a tiny kiss on her head as she'd been welcomed into another magical family. Her heir loom gown still cream as they day it had been cast. The tufts of her hair wetted by his fingers, her temperament quiet and still throughout the whole ordeal. Just that feeling of a baby in her arms made her sad now, but the thought of not being able to hug that same baby as she came home for Christmas, throwing a tantrum as the tiny baby walked into a huge room, boy on her arm at prom, as her fairy smiled cheekily in graduation photos makes her cry more, louder, harder, stronger, faster.

"Our Father, which art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy Name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done,

in earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive them that trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation;

But deliver us from evil:

For thine is the kingdom, The power, and the glory,

For ever and ever. Amen."

She feels her sister beginning to rise as they line up behind her, single file and silent as the notices the lilies lying on the mahogany box, coffin. Tiny pictures drawn by class mates strewn in a mirage of hope and thanksgiving, "We'll miss you Molly," she notices a tiny girl, perhaps her best friend clutching the hand of a woman not much older than her, the black dress dwarfs the child, her blond hair brought into a tight pony tail as she looks on confused as she take an offered hand of dirt, casting it on with a slow tear on her cheek, "mommy will Molly be safe now?" the question breaks everyone who hears it spoken, safe from what? Evil and torment yes, safe from her loving mother and doting aunt? No.

She goes to take her own handful of dirt rubbing the damp grains of grit and mud loose of one another as she chucks it over the six foot deep hole, "sleep well my fairy, visit soon," the moment she does it, her eye catches a Monarch butterfly winking it's wings as it soars through the rain towards the gap of cloud.


End file.
